


A Turnabout of Identity

by Altamont (a1tam0nt)



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, 大逆転裁判 | Dai Gyakuten Saiban
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Broken Bones, Case Fic, Drunk Children, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Injury, Murder Mystery, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-18 21:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10625763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a1tam0nt/pseuds/Altamont
Summary: Faced with nothing interesting to do, Ryuunosuke Naruhodo decides to aid Sherlock Holmes in one of his more peculiar cases - the disappearance of Miss Mary Sutherland's boyfriend, Mr. Hosmer Angel. However, when Hosmer Angel turns up dead, she is outright accused of his murder!Will Naruhodo and Holmes be able to find the true culprit before they escape?





	1. An Indecisive Woman

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the Sherlock Holmes story "A Case of Identity", as written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

It was a quiet morning around Baker Street.

Ryuunosuke Naruhodo paced backwards and forwards in the attic of 221B Baker Street monotonously, as he awaited a new client for his legal agency. It had been quite a while since he had any cases - blank legal documents sat on-top of his desk, awaiting signatures to be put into the lines labelled with little black 'X's. At least doing that the other week was  _somewhat_ interesting.

They sat next to the well-read Japanese-to-English Dictionary that Holmes and Iris had bought him for his birthday the other week. He had grown tired of going over and over it, again and again. There are only so many times one can practise saying " _Good morning, I wish to buy three turkeys for my dinner this afternoon_ " in a non-native language before one gets tired of doing so, after all.

Naruhodo drummed his fingers on the desktop as he stared blankly around his lodgings and legal office, based in the attic of Sherlock Holmes.

He had found some fun in listening to Susato, who was reading Iris's new story fresh from the typewriter, an entertaining one by the name of  _The Adventure of the Devil's Foot_ , _to him,_  but she had went out earlier with Iris to do some grocery shopping. Truth be told, Naruhodo didn't exactly feel like traipsing up and down Oxford Street, looking at things he wouldn't be able to afford unless he robbed the bank - and opted to remain behind, as boring as that would also be.

Holmes was downstairs, probably doing his usual experiments or playing with his violin. That is, if he didn't mix it up with a viola in the pawnshop again.

With a sigh, Naruhodo got up out of his chair, at long last, and trudged back down the stairs again to see if Holmes was up to anything interesting.

Down in 221B, all appeared to be silent. It was as though nobody was in.

He called: "Hello? Anyone home? Susato-san? Holmes-san? Iris-chan?"

"Over here, Mr. Naruhodo." said Holmes, who was standing and looking down at the street through the window near his chemical corner.

"What are you looking at, Holmes-san?" asked Naruhodo, looking at the cheeky smirk that Holmes had across his face.

"Look at that woman, Mr. Naruhodo." said Holmes "Tell me, what do you see?"

Naruhodo looked at the woman, who was dressed extravagantly with a large hat on her head. She reminded him, somewhat, of Jezail Brett, the woman of which he didn't need any reminder of.

The lady on the street below paced backwards and forwards on the pavement opposite, before crossing the road to the door of 221B Baker Street.

"It appears you have a visitor, Holmes-san."

"Ssh! Quiet, Mr. Naruhodo!" said Holmes, as though he was watching some form of rare bird and didn't want Naruhodo to scare it away under any circumstances.

She raised her hand as though she were about to ring the bell. But breathed a sigh, before crossing the road again, back over to the other side of the road, where she began to pace backwards and forwards again. She decided, again, after a few more minutes, to cross over again to the door of 221B. She sighed mid-way across that she wasn't going to, and went back across the road again.

"She's been like this for the best part of three hours, Mr. Naruhodo." said Holmes, who appeared to be rather easily impressed. "So either she's an assassin with a nervous disposition, or a client who is romantically involved, and is wondering whether to call upon me."

"Romantically involved?" asked Naruhodo, who really  _was_ questioning if Holmes had been watching, more or less, the same repetitive action for the most of the day. It was no secret to him that  _the great detective of the foggy city_ had his own... quirks (for want of a better word).

"Yes!" replied Holmes "You know, the standard, 'My wife is going backwards and forwards to another cottage, I think she has a secret child', 'My wife's being scared by strange drawings on the garden shed, is she involved with American gangs?', and 'My ex has a photo of me and I'm due to be married. I need it back, quickly', sort of ones. Iris quite likes them. Probably because they're the more interesting type of cases for _Randst_ _Magazine_ readers, I suppose, so they sell more." he chuckled.

"Ah, Susato mentioned that one. The apparent one time you were outwitted by a woman, the person you called  _The Woma_ -"

**DINGA-DING-DING!**

Before Naruhodo could ask anything else, the bell rang.

"What?" Holmes enquired, looking down. "It seems the rather indecisive lady has, at long last, made a decision in the matter. Send her on up, Mrs. Hudson! And I'll have a cup of tea next Thursday, if you please!"

"So you're going to be busy then?" asked Naruhodo "Then I'll go back upsta-"

"No, wait!" cried Holmes.

"What is it, Holmes-san?" asked Naruhodo, with a somewhat exasperated look upon his face.

"You're more than welcome to sit in on our conversation. Iris often does it anyway, and Susato did so just the other week with whats-his-face."

"You mean Stanley Hopkins, police detective and your fanboy?"

"That's the one. She sat in and talked with him for hours about my cases and Iris's stories. So much so that he forgot what he was going to say and had to go home. Anyway, the point, I'm making is that I want you to sit in and listen in. You may be of assistance to me. After all, being a lawyer and everything, you should know how prenuptials and things like that work."

"I-If you say so." said Naruhodo, who wasn't exactly certain himself of whether or not sitting in on one of Holmes's cases was  _exactly_ ethical.

 


	2. A visit from Mary Sutherland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In true Ace Attorney style, here come the pop culture references!

Naruhodo promptly sat down on the settee - unsure of what _exactly_ was about to happen, and Holmes quickly fixed his hair before the young woman walked in.

She was dressed in a rich green dress, and carried a small dark blue purse in her gloved hands. Her dark brown hair was mostly covered by the large hat she was wearing, which was tilted in the style of a famous countess that Naruhodo had once heard the name of from Iris, but he'd forgotten the name already.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Holmes." said the woman.

"Do you find that shortsightedness interferes often with your piano playing?"

"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Holmes." she replied "I'm shortsighted, yes, you can probably tell by the glasses, but, no, I do typewriting, and make a half-crown per page that I type."

"Yes, I was observing the flattened fingertips. You can also get that from piano playing." said Holmes, taking his seat. "I trust that you have a case for me. This is Mr. Ryuunosuke Naruhodo, by the way, who will assist me with your case; you can say anything before him that you will say to me."

"Good morning." said Naruhodo, as the lady took her seat.

"Please, madam, state your case."

"My name is Mary Sutherland. I've come to speak to you about my disappearing fiancé, Mr. Hosmer Angel."

"When did you notice he was disappeared?"

"On the day we were due to be married, actually."

"Mr. Naruhodo, you're a lawyer, aren't you? Would there be anything in that?"

"Er, no." said Naruhodo, feeling rather out of place in such a situation "Unless they were married, because there might be something then. Then again, I'm more in criminal law, Holmes-san."

Miss Sutherland began to twist a handkerchief in her hands. "My mother re-married a number of years ago - not long after my father died - to a man called James Windibank. I don't call him my stepfather or anything, because he is practically a few years older than I am. He objected strongly to me marrying, or even having any form of a romantic relationship with anybody. Probably because he makes little himself, and relies in-part on the income my mother and I make."

"And what does he do then, in-terms of an occupation?" asked Holmes.

"He is a wine and food trader. While he does have to often travel to Europe, but the job does not offer any major wage. I myself make money from my uncle Ned's shares in an Australian gas company - Perry Mason Ltd. Combined with my wage from my typewriting, so I'm certainly not on the road to nowhere."

"I see." said Holmes "Skipping to the part where you actually _met_ Hosmer Angel..."

"Oh, that? Yes." said Mary Sutherland "I decided one night to sneak out to the gasfitters' ball, as both my father and mother were away, whereupon I met... oh! Mr. Hosmer Angel!" she sighed happily, batting her eyelashes and her cheeks reddening slightly.

Naruhodo grew concerned with the way that she smiled and sighed happily when she said that. It was almost as though there were love-hearts in her eyes, the way she was so romantically infatuated with him.

"Not long after our meeting, my father came back, and we were limited only to typewritten correspondence."

"And what does Mr. Angel do for a living?" asked Holmes

"He told me that he worked in the tax office, working as a clerk." replied Miss Sutherland "He asked me to send the letters to his Post Office Box, as the other workers would tease him if they found out that he was in correspondence with a lady such as myself."

"I see." said Holmes, nodding at Naruhodo to signal him to take notes. Naruhodo quickly took a sheet of paper from Iris's desk, and Holmes discreetly tossed him a pencil, and made a note of it.

"Was it typewritten or handwritten?"

"Typewritten."

"Excellent. And signed in what way?"

"The signature was also typewritten."

"Very good, very good. Do you have a sample of these letters?"

"I thought you might want to see them." said Miss Sutherland, removing a selection of sheets of paper from her purse, and handing them over to Naruhodo. It seemed that she might have mistaken him for a clerk of some variety himself.

"Thank you. You are a model client! And the proposal?"

"He proposed to me the next time that we saw one another in-person, so to speak. My father was in Europe again at the time, buying some wines from the Spanish. Hosmer was insistent that we married almost instantly, and we had a wedding three days afterwards."

"Only three days? Hum! That's rather rapid for a wedding!" exclaimed Holmes.

"It'd be worse if it was for a courtroom trial," said Naruhodo.

"Everything was planned. We also wrote to my father, so that nothing would be done behind his back, and he showed no objection to the idea of marriage either.

"Then came the day of the wedding." she sobbed "And he was nowhere to be seen!"

"Did you look for him?"

"Yes, but neither me or my mother could find him. Then, before my father was due to return, he met me in secret near the dockyard. He told me that he would have to go away for a while, and he made me swear on the bible that I wouldn't love another man until he returned."

"And how did your father react when he found out?" asked Naruhodo.

"He was rather blasé about the whole thing." replied Miss Sutherland "And both he and my mother just told me to let it go."

"To let it go?"

"Yes, but I couldn't hold it back anymore. That's why I put out an advertisement in the  _Evening Standard_ , and decided to consult you, Mr. Holmes."

"You made an excellent decision to consult me." said Holmes, giving her a business card and a complimentary copy of  _Randst_ magazine, which ran the headline " **A new Sherlock Holmes story! _The Adventure of the Dancing Men!_** " "Can you give me a description of the man in question?"

"Yes, I put it in the paper." she fumbled around in her purse and took out a clipping of it and her reading glasses. "This is the one."

**CLASSIFIEDS**

**WANTED!  
Information leading to Mr. Hosmer Angel.**

> Mr. Hosmer Angel disappeared Saturday the 18th, not long before he was due to marry Miss Mary Sutherland at the St. Mary's Church on the same day. He was then spotted in the dockyards by Miss Sutherland, whereupon he disappeared.
> 
> Mr. Angel is described as being tall, with a slight stubble upon his face and slightly scruffy dress-sense. He is at least six foot in height, and has brown eyes.
> 
> _If you have information relating to Mr. Angel or his whereabouts, please write to **Mary Sutherland, 57 Crown Street, London, SW1**  A cash reward is offered for information that helps to lead to him being found._

"How very accurate!" remarked Naruhodo.

"Indeed, Miss Sutherland, it is very accurate. Very commendable!" remarked Sherlock Holmes, holding his pipe up "Again, I must say that you are a model client!"

"Why thank you." said Mary Sutherland, her cheeks reddening slightly. "I also have a number of letters from my father, and Mr. Hosmer Angel, should they prove any further useful."

"Excellent! Quite excellent!" said Holmes, accepting the typewritten sheets of paper, and handing them over to Naruhodo, who began to wonder if this was what Iris or even her father had to deal with when dealing with the _already_ quite strange Sherlock Holmes. 

"I shall accept the case. If you encounter anyone or anything which has information leading to Mr. Angel, could you please forward it to me? It may prove useful."

"Thank you, I shall."

"Excellent. Well, I shall let you know the moment we come to any form of successful conclusion. You may leave now, unless there is anything else you may wish to tell us."

"No, I should think that there isn't anything else, unless I come across anything when I'm out in town today. I have a number of errands I should need to run."

"Excellent!" said Holmes with a clap of his hands "If we should need anything, we will contact you."

"Thank you. I shall speak to you then, sir."

"Very good. Mrs. Hudson, kindly show the lady out, will you? Good morning, madam."

The lady was kindly escorted out by Mrs. Hudson, who closed the door behind her.

"Well, what do you think then, Mr. Naruhodo?" asked Holmes, with a shrug.

"I think I can see why Iris and Susato like to get away..." he said, as he re-organised the sheets of paper that had been handed to him roughly.

Holmes said with a smirk: "Humph! We'll make a detective's assistant of you yet!"

He quickly took up the sheets of paper that Naruhodo had organised. "Now, you should know this bit. It's time for, **Sherlock Holmes's theatre and logic and deduc-** "

Before he could continue, there was a knock at the door.

"Oh, who is it now?! Come in!"

The door opened, and in stepped Tobias Gregson - the so-called 'enemy of the great detective', although neither one was really much better than the other. He, naturally, had a newspaper-wrapped cone of fish and chips in-hand.

"Inspector Gregson. What is it?"

"I'm afraid that we've just found a body, Mr. Holmes. And we thought to come to you over the strange nature of it. He was found by the docks."

"By the docks?" asked Holmes.

"Who was it?" asked Naruhodo.

"We're not one hundred percent sure at the moment." said Gregson "But we think his name may be...

"Hosmer Angel."

"Hosmer Angel?!" exclaimed Holmes, nearly falling over in the shock of the moment.

"That's the one. Why, do you know him?"

"Mr. Holmes currently has enquiries going on about finding him!" said Naruhodo, who was also rather shocked.

"Well, you say enquiries, I mean only  _just_ about to start them. But still, strange! Very strange indeed!"


	3. The Scene of the Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the massive delays in-between chapters! My writing agenda is a little bit full at the moment and I'm still recovering from a pretty intense exam season, but I'll try to keep this as up-to-date as often as I can humanly manage.

"Come now, Inspector! Please, sit down at once. Please remain, Mr. Naruhodo. Your insight is still very much valued." said Sherlock Holmes.

Naruhodo sighed and sat down again, just as he was about to make a quick escape back into the attic.

The moustached inspector lifted a cushion out of his way as he sat down, and tossed it aside.

"There now, do make yourself comfortable. Please, outline the facts, Inspector."

"There's not much to say, Mr. Holmes," said Gregson, glancing sideways at Naruhodo, then sideways at Holmes "there's been a man murdered, and he was found by the docks. His name, according to the papers we found, his name was Mr. Hosmer Angel. He was killed by a whack to the head, they're going over his body now at the docks. There was a fella there discovered him, while heading to work on a subby-marine for the Navy."

"A what?" asked Naruhodo.

"I think you mean a  _submarine_ , Inspector Gregson. It's vessel, Mr. Naruhodo, that can go under the water. Our navy is only recently picking up on the concept. I should know, my brother works a great deal with the Navy."

"You have a  _brother_?" asked Naruhodo, again surprised.

"Yes, yes, Mycroft Holmes, seven years, two months and four days older than I am, fat, works with the government, but we mustn't dwell on that."

"Well, your expertise would be appreciated, Mr. Holmes." said Gregson with a sigh, muttering under his breath that some senior police officer would fine him if he didn't get Mr. Sherlock Holmes on the scene ASAP, and that he'd rather eat his hat than work with him. "If you could spare a moment of your time, it would be greatly appreciated."

"Aha! Excellent!" cried Holmes, rubbing his hands with some strange form of excitement "A case! Exciting! Inspector, you may return to the scene -- we will follow along after you shortly, for I must get ready, and Mr. Naruhodo must at least run a comb through his hair or something."

"But I already brushed my hair today!" protested Naruhodo, fixing a few fine black strands of hair at the back of his head that were sticking up.

Holmes sprang up and began grabbing his equipment, and put on his legendary deerstalker hat "Yes, yes, and straighten up that band! Inspector, what are you still doing here? Get going! There's work to be done, cases to be solved and fun to be had! We must not stop moving for a split second!"

Tobias Gregson exited down the stairs and into his official police carriage, leaving the fray of the great detective's preparations.

* * *

"Here we are at last!" said Holmes, knocking on the roof of the coach that he had hired.

"At last..." muttered Naruhodo queasily, rather green with motion sickness.

"Cheer up, Mr. Naruhodo, for there is nothing greater than investigations to be investigated! Or would you rather be at home?" said Holmes as he counted out the money for the driver.

They stepped out of the cab and looked around.

The suspicious-looking and even more suspiciously-smelling river Thames rolled past, as there came cries from sailors and dockworkers, talking to one another. A number of reporters had assembled at the division between the crime-scene and the rest of the world. Meanwhile a police photographer was stood over the heap that appeared to be the body of Mr. Hosmer Angel, the very same man who had disappeared under very much suspicious circumstances.

Cranes and barges creaked and groaned in the breeze, and a large iron machine bobbed up and down in the water.

"There's Inspector Gregson!" said Naruhodo, pointing at the inspector, who was buying some more fish and chips from a seedy-smelling food cart that had been set-up.

"That man and his fish and chips, eh? It's no wonder he smells so vinegary," chuckled Holmes with a shrug.

"I think that's the smell coming from the river though, Holmes-san..." replied Naruhodo, who scrunched up his nose in-response to the suspicious smell.

"Don't worry, you get used to it. Since I've met him I never can have chips without vinegar. Now, Gregson! Where be the body?" said Holmes with an enthusiastic clap of his hands.

"Over here," said Gregson, in-between chewing his fish.

He led them over toward the side of the docks, where the body lay in a pool of dark-red blood. A thick black cloth covered the body, to allow Mr. Hosmer Angel some form of dignity, even in death. 

Gregson nodded to a police constable, whose face was barely visible under the visor of his metal helmet. They pulled back the cover on the body, to reveal the fine-whiskered face of Hosmer Angel - his eyes wide-open behind a pair of black-lensed glasses. His hair had thinned out in the middle of his head, but he had attempted to cover it with a comb-over, which had fallen over post-mortem.

A large blackish-purple bruise covered the front of his skull, the size of a goose egg, where he had clearly met his ultimate fate. _Death by person or persons unknown_.

"Hum!" cried Holmes, pulling Naruhodo down with him as he squatted down in-front of the body of the late Hosmer Angel. With a finger snap, he pointed at the body.

"Death by head injury, it seems."

"But by what?" asked Naruhodo.

"That is indeed the question. Inspector?"

"By wrench handle," replied Gregson, who appeared to have the murder-weapon in hand, covered by a handkerchief in-order to try and preserve some of the bloodstain along the handle. "Across the front of the head. Wham! The coroner's already ruled out it being an accident."

"Clearly, death by a long-handled instrument," said Sherlock Holmes.

"For once, I think you're right," replied Naruhodo, wondering if he should mark the day on the calendar. The one day that Sherlock Holmes managed to actually get something right "but who killed him?"

"Well, that's what we're here for!" cried Holmes, carefully examining the damp ground for any sign of a clue "You can look as well, Mr. Naruhodo. Don't just stand there like a plum!"

Naruhodo looked over the body as Holmes scurried around examining various aspects of the ground. He checked the deceased man's inner pockets, and inside there was a small business card.

 **Mister HOSMER ANGEL, CONSULTANT**  
Fru O'Divine, Wine Co.  
34 Saxe-Coburg Square, London, SW1

"'Fru O'Divine'?" asked Naruhodo, examining the small goblet and grape logo on the card "They must be a wine company."

"Indeed they are," said Holmes, who appeared to be examining the fingernails of the late Mr. Hosmer Angel "They specialise in bulk-buying foreign wines, and they're popular with many fashionable members of London society."

"Oh yeah. I heard the Queen buys with them," added Gregson, spitting out a small, hard chip.

"The so-called ' _Grim Reaper of the Courtroom_ ' prosecutor Barok van Zieks also buys with them."

"Barok van Zieks? Huh. I suppose he has to get it from somewhere." said Naruhodo, having a quick flashback to van Zieks throwing glasses into candelabras, crushing the "godly chalices" in his hand, and throwing near-entire bottles into the gallery, narrowly missing some poor sap's head each and every time.

 "Yes, I've also heard that he's a secret fan of mine and Watson's adventures," mumbled Holmes, lowering his large brass mechanical goggles and adjusting the magnification, "I must give him a signed copy one of these days..."

Naruhodo chuckled at the thought of the stern-faced and often bitter Prosecutor van Zieks smirking at the idea of Holmes trying to solve the mystery of a secret code of dancing men or running backwards and forwards after a so-called " _spectral hound_ " in Dartmoor.

 "Aha! Here, also, is the victim's diary!" proclaimed Sherlock Holmes in triumph, holding up a small leather-backed book "Often people record their thoughts and things they have to do for work in these handy little things. Mine's been full the last while," he added as he held up his own leather-backed one, with his insignia on it. Being honest with himself, Naruhodo thought that the whole thing was minutes away from coming undone and falling apart.

"I know, and mine has been empty for the last while," said Naruhodo "What's in the newer dates?"

"Let's see, what day was it yesterday? Thursday! Thursday the... eighth!"

He quickly flicked through the small pocketbook as quickly as he could. "Aha!" he said at last.

The victim's diary ran as follows:

> **MONDAY, 5th**  
>  Wife's birthday - buy flowers!
> 
> **TUESDAY, 6th  
> ** Day off.
> 
> **WEDNESDAY, 7th**  
>  Speak with B.P.
> 
> **THURSDAY, 8th  
> ** Meet with M. Sutherland - speak with about marriage issue.
> 
> **FRIDAY, 9th  
> ** Stocktake at Selfridge's.
> 
> **SATURDAY, 10th  
> ** Windibank back from continental buying trip - discuss issue.
> 
> **SUNDAY, 11th  
> ** Day off.

"M. Sutherland?" asked Naruhodo, with realisation as to what this would mean.

"Selfridges? I went in there last week to buy some chocolate! Nearly cost me whole paycheck for a square, never mind the whole bar!" said Gregson.

"Mm! And his wife clearly enjoys flowers, but 'M. Sutherland', surely that must be...  **MARY SUTHERLAND**!" concluded Holmes, causing Naruhodo to finally realise what he had feared for all of less than fifteen seconds "She clearly was the one who brained Angel over the head! Inspector, you must arrest her at once!"

"You heard the man!" Gregson barked at some constables, nearly crushing all of his cone of fish and chips in anger. They ran off in-search of her, perhaps fearing the 'wrath' of Tobias Gregson.

"A fine case, Mr. Naruhodo, eh?" said Holmes, removing his goggles again "A nice short one! I like those ones."

"Holmes-san, you really don't think that she killed him, do you?"

"Of course I do! It's the  _great detective's logic_ , isn't it? ' _Whatever remains, no matter how improbable or impossible, must be the absolute truth_ ', that's my motto! There is no other conclusion!"

"Gregson-san?" asked Naruhodo, getting up.

"Mmm?" mumbled Gregson, his mouth full once again with more fish and chips.

"If you wouldn't mind awfully, sir, did you say you had a witness?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Well, would it be possible to speak to him? I think Holmes-san has rushed a bit too far with his conclusion so-far."

"Hmm..." Gregson frowned at Naruhodo, and the prospect that his open-and-shut case could possibly be extended. Naruhodo looked at Gregson filled with hope that he would meet his request, and anxiety that he would be denied.

"Mmm.... very well!" concluded Gregson "I can see I'll get no peace from you or 'Holmes-san' or whatever it is you like to call him. I'll go and find him..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you spot the references to some of Holmes's most famous cases?


	4. Bruce Partington, the bristly engineer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for neglecting this story for so long!

Inspector Gregson returned not long afterwards, escorting a hairy-faced man in a flat cap. The man wore a faded blue grey flat-cap on his head, almost the same colour as his dungarees. Both of which, however, were stained with heavy black blotches of oil, as was the white shirt he wore underneath, and his heavy-looking brown hobnail boots.

If he wasn't an engineer, Naruhodo had no idea what on Earth he was supposed to be!

In his hand, he carried a large spanner, which he seemed to squeeze every now and again.

"Here we are," said Inspector Gregson.

"What's all this about?" asked the man.

"We're led to believe that you were a witness to the murder of Mr Hosmer Angel," said Naruhodo, stroking his chin.

"Oh that, yeah, I did," said the man, wiping his long silver spanner with a oily-looking rag "The name's Bruce Partington, I'm an engineer."

"Indeed you are," said Holmes, who had been silent for once in this entire story, as he stared at the man.

Naruhodo rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what that meant. It wouldn't be long before he was spouting some strange deductions off of the top of his head.

"I was working down the dockyards when I saw Mr Angel get brained," explained Partington, stroking his thick brown bristly beard, "It was still early morning, see, so I called out for help, and sure enough, a constable came running. I did my part!" he added, putting his hands on his hips in-order to try and look somewhat proud and/or heroic.

"Er, still..." said Naruhodo, not quite sure how to respond to someone doing what they were _supposed_ to do in the first place, "Are you a hundred per-cent sure that it was her?"

"'Course I am! He's layin' next to a lamp, in't he?" The gruff engineer pointed his spanner up to the streetlight next to the victim's body "If I couldn't see him under the light one of those things gives off, I'd really be for the workhouse!"

"Perhaps you weren't so good in your line of duty as a good citizen after all," said Holmes, pointing at the engineer in an accusatory way. 

"Here we go..." tutted Gregson, rolling his eyes.

"What do you mean I'm not a good citizen? You got proof of that, you fluffy-haired twat?"

Naruhodo thought that a fight was going to break out in any second. Though he had to admit, he'd never heard anyone call Holmes a "fluffy haired twat" before. In-fact, he wasn't all that sure what a  _twat_  even was...

"Of course I have proof!" said Holmes "I have proof through my skills of rapid-fire reasoning. You know the kind, Mr Naruhodo. It's  **Sherlock Holmes's Theatre of Logic and Deductions**!" he cried as he put his pipe in his mouth; the fears of Naruhodo and Gregson both realised - Sherlock Holmes was going to make some deductions.

* * *

  **DEDUCTIVE REASONING  
** ~ The game is afoot! ~

"First of all, **you weren't here for any act of good!** " said Holmes, pointing at the engineer, who gave a startled expression.

"The reason why you were here is to do with the contents of your back pocket!" exclaimed Holmes as Bruce Partington raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, you are currently working under contract for the British government in the design of a submarine. I can see it's under construction not far from here. Also, Inspector Gregson here may have mentioned submarines earlier... Anyway, you decided to take the plans and sell them to a foreign power for money to pay off your gambling debt!

"So you came here early in-order to take the plans and make a quick getaway! Next, we must consider that you were an accomplice in the murder!"

"H-He's an accomplice?!" spluttered Gregson, almost choking on his fish and chips.

"That's right, Inspector," said Holmes with a smirk on his face "It's clear that Mr Partington was an accomplice!"

"Now hang on just a bleedin' minute-!" protested Partington, before he was rudely interrupted by another accusatory point by the detective.

"Your minutes and your ego will have to deal with some loss and a bruise for now, Mr Partington, as I haven't finished yet! You hold, in your hands, a wrench, do you not?"

The engineer gave another startled cry, tugging on the red bandana around his neck and squeezing the long silver spanner in his hand.

"Now hang on just a sec-"

"Yes, this wrench is almost certainly the same design as the murder weapon, or at least from the same place. You were spotted by Ms Sutherland, who agreed to silence. Mr Angel, who was going to die, was in one hundred per-cent disagreement! And so, you handed the wrench to her to use as a murder weapon! This makes you  **accessory to murder**!

"Really now, 'tis most  _elementary_!"

* * *

"Er... that didn't sound right  _at all_..." said Naruhodo, wondering how any of that could be correct.

"Yeah," said Gregson "I agree with the  _Nipponese_ -"

"-Japanese," corrected Naruhodo, somewhat sternly.

"Yeah, whatever, I agree with him, the student."

"First of all, how did you know it's top-secret submarine plans in his pocket?"

"My brother Mycroft and I write to each-other, and he mentioned something about submarines. The usual balderdash about what he's doing at work and who he's doing it with, or who came into  _The Diogenes Club_ the other day and stuff like that. He's worried about the plans leaking. Or the submarine leaking. One or the other!" said Holmes dismissively "Also, as I said, Gregson may have mentioned it earlier. He's not that good at keeping secrets, after all..."

"I'll have you know, Holmes-!" protested Gregson.

"Can I look at the paper, Partington-san?" interrupted Naruhodo, looking at the bristly-faced engineer, and trying to keep tensions down between Holmes and Gregson.

"I-I suppose you can. Go on then!" replied the engineer after a moment's thought, stroking his thick brown beard, which appeared to have tiny flakes of dandruff fall from it like a miniature blizzard.

 _Perhaps he was hiding something, after all?_ Naruhodo wondered.

Mr Partington reached into the back pocket of his dungarees and pulled out a scrunched-up piece of brown paper, and he pressed it into Naruhodo's hand. "There. That'll explain why I was here."

He carefully unfolded it, and examined the neatly-typed receipt.

 **Fru O'Divine  
** Purveyor of fine wines and spirits

 _Receipt of payment from_ **BRUCE JOSEPH PARTINGTON** _for the purchase of_ **2 BOTTLES OF CHATEU DIEU DE LA MORT**.

_£1, 5s and 3d_

_Signed, B.P and H. Angel_

"A-A receipt?!" cried Holmes out of shock, before steadying himself again. "O-Of course I knew that, I was just testing you!" he said, laughing "Well done, you did a good job. Gold stars all round! Yes, he was purchasing wine here at the time. The same type that Sir Van Zieks himself drinks, I see."

"Blinking Nora! That's expensive!" said the wide-eyed Inspector Gregson, who nearly choked when he saw the price "No wonder Van Zieks can afford it! I wonder how much he earns in a week...?"

"I think we have better things to worry about than how much prosecutors get paid right now..." said Naruhodo "Still, why were you buying it, Partington-san?"

"My wife's a fan of Van Zieks's - she attends every trial!" explained Partington "And she's always wanted to try the wine he has in that godly chalice of his that he keeps smashing or tossing around the courtroom, and it's her birthday today, so I figured I'd buy the same type of wine for her."

"I can think of better things she can be a fan of..." said Naruhodo with a wince.

"Yes. Such as  _my_ cases. Less likely to get a thump on the head from flying wine bottles!" said Holmes, handing out a complimentary copy of  _The Randst Magazine_ to Partington, which was running the headline " **Sherlock Holmes outwits a German spy!!!** " along the front of it.

"Thank you, Mr Holmes. I had to buy it on my way to work and keep it in my locker, because she'd spot it if she was at home or if I went out in the middle of dinner or summin' like that."

"Well that's that cleared up," said Gregson.

"But what about the wrench?" interjected Holmes "What about it? Clearly you wiped it off!"

"Er, Holmes. That's a  _spanner_ he's holding. Not a wrench," said Naruhodo "Trust me, the Japanese to English dictionary I have has drawings of a 'wrench' and a 'spanner'. And that's clearly a spanner."

"But they're the same thing, are they not?"

"This is a  _spanner_ , see how you can't adjust it?" said Partington, showing off his spanner.

Using a handkerchief, Naruhodo lifted the blood-splattered wrench off the ground to show it to Holmes.

"And this is a  _wrench_. You can adjust it."

"Still the same thing, though, I'll admit. We need to stop making narrow-minded cultural assumptions, Mr Naruhodo!"

"But _you're_ the one assuming everything, Holmes-san..." said Naruhodo in protest "A-Anyway, there's no way he could be accessory to the murder and report it so openly to the police at the same time!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joint reasoning, more Holmesian references, and a reference to that old-fashioned argument.


	5. Mary Sutherland's Parents

 "Well then, that led nowhere," said Holmes, resting his hands on his hips "Any suggestions as to what we do next, Mr Naruhodo?"

"I have no idea Holmes-san," said Naruhodo, who was stroking his chin in thought "Well, we know that Ms Sutherland was here last night anyway. Perhaps we could ask her some things about the case?"

"We could, but she said that she's going to be running some errands; remind me, did she say where?"

Naruhodo thought back to when she had came into Holmes's flat after three hours of debating about it. "She just said 'in town'. So that could be anywhere in London."

"Indeed. Perhaps we ought to try her house," thought Holmes "she may have returned early. And if not, I'm sure that there may be people around her house that she could speak to, such as her step-father or her mother."

"Good idea," replied Naruhodo "you have her card, don't you?"

"Yes, you're right! CAAAAAABBIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!" called Holmes, holding out a hand to a passing horse and cart. Surely enough, a hansom cab stopped seconds later.

"Climb in Mr Naruhodo. Take us to Crown Street, SW1, my good man. A guinea if you do it in the next twenty minutes! You may wish to hold on tight, Mr Naruhodo."

Holmes closed the doors of the hansom, as the driver cracked the whip at the horse, who took off as fast as its legs would carry it.

* * *

"Thank you, driver. Keep the change," said Sherlock Holmes as he handed a number of coins to the driver. Naruhodo stumbled out of the cart, having had the living daylights shaken out of him from the bumpy cobblestone roads. He reached into his pocket and wiped down his face, which had been unfortunate enough to have gotten caught in the splash-zone of a puddle.

"Ugh, I'm really not used to those carriages, Holmes-san..." said Naruhodo, who did look a little green around the metaphorical gills.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it. I used to get travel sickness all the time. I once managed to catch Mycroft in the face, actually. Certainly ruined that birthday for him! AHAHAHAHAAAAA!" laughed Holmes, sounding like a high-pitched aspirating monkey as he laughed. "Now then, we should probably announce ourselves."

Holmes rang the bell by the door of the Georgian style terraced house. It looked rather like the houses along Baker Street. Though the house certainly didn't look like much. The paint on the door was flaking away, the knocker looked rusted, one window had a board nailed across it where it had been broken, and the plants in the window box looked rather like a case for Scotland Yard's newly appointed coroner.

The door opened, and Naruhodo and Holmes were greeted by a rather ugly and fat-looking lady, who had a thick-looking chin on her face and a snaggle-toothed scowl. She wore a dark red dress that looked to be somewhat revealing.

"HALLOA?!" cried Holmes out of shock of the ugliness of the woman, before straightening himself again "Er, I mean, 'Hullo!' I'm here to see Mary Sutherland," he said with a coy, yet somewhat discomforted smile.

"I'm her _muvver_ ," said the woman with a thick East London accent "She ain't home right now. Wanna leave a message or what?"

"Is she not? Oh dear, such a shame. I'm Mr Sher-" Holmes did a doubletake. It would be better if she (or anyone else) knew who he was, or what he (or Naruhodo) were really there for.

"I'm Mr Sher...rinford Watson," said Holmes, nudging Naruhodo in the ribs with his elbow.

"Oh. OH! I'm Ryuunosuke Asougi," said Naruhodo, trying to think of a name off of the top of his head, which was surprisingly much more difficult than he first thought it would be. The next Japanese male name he could think of, other than his own, was Asougi's. He was sure his friend wouldn't mind him borrowing his name for a  _little_ while.

"Yes. May we come in?"

"Might as well," said the woman "I'm Edwina Windibank, her  _muvver_."

She stepped aside and allowed Naruhodo and Holmes to step in.

The house looked as though it may have been a pleasant one, once upon a time. But the green wallpaper had faded, and the house seemed to stink of garlic. The floorboards were rotting in a number of places, and creaked under the feet of Mrs Windibank, Naruhodo and Holmes. Naruhodo would have sworn out of the corner of his eye that there was a rat sat on the stair eating the cheese straight from a mouse trap.

They were led into a small kitchen-like area, which looked mostly barren. As though a good deal of the furniture had been taken, sold, or put in the fire, which was practically blazing up the chimney.

"This is me 'usband, James. She's Mary's father," she said by means of introduction, picking up a cigarette and lighting it from a nearby candle.

The man sitting at the kitchen table lowered his newspaper to reveal a balding head, with fine whiskers of facial hair around his jaw. "Hullo," he said quietly. He folded up the newspaper. "Is this about Hosmer Angel?"

"Yes it is. Now we're inside, I can tell you who I really am. My name is Mr Sherlock Holmes, and I'm a consulting detective. And this man is Ryuunosuke Naruhodo, who is acting as my assistant in this matter."

"A detective? Is this about that bloody Hosmer Angel again?" asked Ms Windibank, knocking some ash off of her cigarette and into the ashtray.

"That girl... I  _told_ her just to forget about it, darling!" groaned James Windibank "That girl never listens, does she?"

"No, she doesn't! You can just forget about it Mr Holmes!"

"I'm afraid I can't. Ms Sutherland is my client and I can only serve her," explained Holmes "Or else I could just let every criminal go because they tell me to 'go away', 'get lost' or 'go and get fu-'"

"Criminals?!" exclaimed James Windibank, raising the newspaper in a threatening manner "How very dare you!"

"Now, now, Windibank-san, let's not fight," said Naruhodo, doing his best in-order to try and defuse the situation "Did you know much about Mr Hosmer Angel?"

"Not really, I was away at the time. Buying wine from the French."

"I see. And what did you think of your step-daughter's engagement?"

Windibank looked away for a moment. "I didn't mind that much. From what her mother told me, he sounded like a rather nice fellow. Strange, but nice. So I told her she could go on ahead with it if she wanted to."

"I didn't show no objection either," said Ms Windibank, blowing a plume of smoke in Naruhodo's way - enough to make him cough "So I insisted they get married right away. That girl changes her mind like no other, and I didn't want her getting cold feet in the run-up to it."

"Yes, we know about her indecisiveness..." said Holmes remembering as she walked backwards and forwards for the best part of three hours that morning. Enough to make anybody dizzy.

"So perhaps she saw a bit of herself in him, and he was indecisive himself?" suggested Mr Windibank "Maybe that's why she thought she wanted to marry him. She should just stay off boys altogether I think."

"Mm. I think so too," agreed Ms Windibank, dropping her cigarette into a cup of tea, causing it to die with a hiss "She'll only get disappointed. Or she'll end up disappointing some poor fella out there..."

"Well perhaps she could just wait for him to come back?"

"Oh no, he's long gone by now, I'd say..." replied Mr Windibank "And I'll tell her to let that be the end of it."

"I'm afraid it is the end of it though. Angel-san was found this morning. Dead."

"Dead?!" cried Ms Windibank, nearly dropping the ashtray.

"Mm yes. Found by the dockyards this morning by an engineer. And she is currently accused of his murder," said Holmes, tenting his fingers.

 _Thanks to you..._  Naruhodo thought quietly to himself...

"Well I don't know!" said Mr Windibank "Maybe she could turn to murder. What do you think, dear?"

"I don't know dear," said Mrs Windibank, with genuine concern on her face.

"We'll have to wait for the results of the investigation until we find out if she could or could not have done it. After all, even if it  _does_ sound impossible, there's nothing to say that it  _is_. Now, I'm a bit thirsty. For wine, that is."

"For wine?" asked Naruhodo.

"Yes, for wine. I'm positively parched! Tell me, could I have a sample to try?" asked Holmes, looking at Mr Windibank with some form of strange intent in his eyes.

"Hm? Oh, yes!" replied Mr Windibank, lifting a wooden case off of the ground, with  **FRU O'DIVINE, SALES DIVISION** stamped across it. He quickly opened it and took out a glass, with all the smile and smarm of any good salesman. He removed a bottle of wine and poured it neatly into the glass.

"Brilliant white wine for a detective known for his brilliant reasoning!" said Windibank with a smile.

Holmes sniffed it for a moment and drank it. "Mm! Lovely! What wine is it?"

"An 1895 Chateau du Île," explained Mr Windibank "A brilliant year, that year."

"I'll buy the bottle from you for half a guinea," said Holmes.

"W-What?!" exclaimed Naruhodo.

"Done!" replied Windibank, recorking it and handing it to Holmes, who then handed over payment.

"By the way, could I have a receipt?" asked Holmes "It's just that Doctor Watson likes me to keep track of my spending, as does Mr Naruhodo here." Holmes hit Naruhodo a playful hit on the back which nearly knocked him for six.

"OOF! Yes! Indeed! _Hai_...!" replied Naruhodo.

"I'll write one up for you now, Mr Holmes. Just let me go to my typewriter..."

Mr Windibank rose from his chair and left the room for a moment. Both Naruhodo and Holmes could hear the neat  **CHAK-CHAKCHAK-CHAK-CHAKCHAK-CHAKCHAK-CHACKCHACKCHAK-KERCHING!** coming from the next room through the mouldy paper-thin walls, which were covered in dry rot in some cases.

He returned some time later with a sheet of paper in-hand.

"Here we are. One reciept. Just sign here and you can go," said Windibank, gesturing to a line for Holmes to sign. Holmes took out a pen and autographed it neatly with an impressively curled ' _ **Sherlock Holmes**_ '.

"Thank you. Much appreciated. I think that's all we can do for now, Mr Naruhodo. Thank you for your time, Mr and Mrs Windibank. If Inspector Tobias Gregson comes knocking, looking for Ms Sutherland, you'll know what for."

"And maybe don't go so hard on her about contacting Holmes-san," suggested Naruhodo "it's only natural she'd want to try and find out where her lover went or what happened to him."

"Thank you, Mr Holmes," said Windibank "If you want to buy more, just come to our offices. I put the address on the receipt."

"Alright. Good afternoon."

Holmes led Naruhodo out of the house, leaving the couple sitting there as they quietly debated something. It was too quiet for either Naruhodo or Holmes to hear, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter than usual. But I hope that it's worth it!


	6. An Examination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for ignoring this story for so long!

"Holmes-san, I think that was just a bit of a time waste," said Naruhodo "we're no further on in the case, and the only thing we've gotten out of it so far is your already-opened bottle of wine."

"Yes, but it's good wine!" said Sherlock Holmes, admiring the bottle and it's slightly-faded label, which made Naruhodo wonder how long the wine had been sitting out in the sunlight, contrary to the label's rather stark and obvious warning of " _Store in a cool, dry place away from sunlight!_ " "Still, the receipt looks rather nice if you would enjoy looking at it."

Holmes practically shoved the slip of paper into Naruhodo's hands, leaving little choice in the matter as they walked along the noisy London street. So he decided to follow suit and carefully examine the neatly typewritten receipt, autographed by the Great Detective of the Foggy City himself.

> **~ FRU O'DIVINE ~**  
>  _Purveyor of fine wines and spirits  
>  _ (Est. 1792)
> 
> **Seller:** Jam **e** s Windibank, 43 Crown Str **ee** t, SW1  
>  **Customer:** W. Sh **e** rlock Holm **e** s (Mr.), 221B Bak **e** r Str **ee** t, NW1
> 
> **Product(s) sold:  
>  ** 1x bottle of (1895) Chat **e** au du Île
> 
> **Total Cost:  
>  ** Half a guin **e** a
> 
> **Seller's signature:** _James H. Windibank_  
>  **Customer's signature:** _Sherlock Holmes_
> 
> **Date:** 01/11/1900

"Still, the behaviour of the Windibanks is a little strange, isn't it?" added Naruhodo, stroking his chin in thought "I mean, if your relationship was ended minutes before you were due to get married, wouldn't you want to know why?"

"I certainly would!" said Sherlock "I mean, is it the usual case of 'It's not you, it's me'? 'It turns out we're long-separated twin siblings'? I read that one in  _The Daily Circus_ once..."

"With all due respect, Holmes-san, I think you'd be better reading something better than tabloid newspapers," added Naruhodo, recalling reading a back-issue that Holmes kept which featured the headline about a university professor of mathematics falling to his death at a waterfall somewhere in rural Switzerland "But still, they wouldn't really want their daughter to get married, would they? I mean, Miss Sutherland looks as though she's certainly well-to-do, but her parents' house is practically falling apart. So if she was to get married, would she not give all of her income to her future husband?"

"That is true, that is true," said Holmes, putting his pipe to his lips "She did mention about getting income from somewhere, mainly because she's a gasfitter!"

"She attended a ball for gas-fitters, Holmes-san, that's where she met this apparent 'Hosmer Angel'."

"But gasfitters still featured somewhere in it, did it not?"

Naruhodo sighed, knowing there was not much point in arguing with the apparently "flawless logic" of the great detective, which was more  _flawed_ than  _flawless_ when combined with an exceedingly terrible long-term memory.

"In-fact, I'd wonder if Mr. Angel was a real person at all," said Naruhodo, stroking his chin in thought again, wondering what on earth Asougi might have made of the case if he were still alive "Would he not  _hand_ write his letters rather than  _type_ write his letters if he  _really_ did care that much about her?"

"Again, true, he even typed the signature if I recall correctly..." Holmes patted around in his pockets, removing them and standing on the street corner reading them alongside Naruhodo.

"Well this is certainly the cheesiest love letter I've ever read..." winced Naruhodo, "Look: 'Our love is akin to that of Romeo and Juliet' - I read  _Shao_ \- I mean - Shakespeare's works when studying my English, and even I know that they both die at the end."

"Oh, I was going to go and watch a performance of Romeo and Juliet on Saturday night! You've spoiled the ending for it now!" Holmes complained.

"But it even says at the beginning that they die..." Naruhodo protested weakly, before interrupting any possible rebuttal from Holmes with: "Wait!"

He snatched the letter from Holmes and examined it carefully.

"What is it, Mr. Naruhodo?" asked Holmes.

"Look at the typeface in this letter from Hosmer Angel," said Naruhodo. Holmes quickly slipped on his magnification goggles and looked closely at it.

> Our shar **e** d lov **e** is akin to that of Rom **e** o & Juli **e** t - bound tog **e** th **e** r by fat **e** on **e**   **e** v **e** ning, as writt **e** n in th **e** stars.

"Indeed, it is a terrible love letter! I would think that if I were born 'Wilhelmina Shirley Holmes' and not 'William Sherlock Holmes', I wouldn't date him even if he were the most eligible bachelor in the entire county!"

"But look at the ' **E** 's, Holmes-san."

"The ' **E** 's?"

"Yes, notice how they're a slight-bit bolder than the rest of them. Now look at the receipt given to you by Windibank-sama..."

> **Customer:** W. Sh **e** rlock Holm **e** s (Mr.), 221B Bak **e** r Str **ee** t, NW1

"The ' **E** 's are also bold in this message!" concluded Holmes, closely examining the Es in his name "It was the same ruddy typewriter! I should have known!"

"So therefore; message sent from Hosmer Angel was written on James Windibank's typewriter!" concluded Naruhodo with a point, wondering if this is what Holmes really felt every time he concluded his line of reasoning, however correct or incorrect it may be.

"Well, there's certainly no doubt that the Hosmer Angel found at the dockyard is who he is - I don't think I would go to so much bother to create a fake diary or identification documents, so perhaps I should have my 'secret police' do a background check..."

Naruhodo did a double-take. "'Secret police'?"

"Yes. The best source of information in the entire British Empire, and a thousand times better than  _Mycroft_ 's sources," added Holmes, with what Naruhodo guessed to be bitterly envious venom in Holmes's tone of voice.

"Well, I suppose we'll need all the information we can get before we conclude that Windibank-sama is the killer."

"Ah yes, it's like that line Iris wrote for me. 'The little things are infinitely the most important', or something to that effect. I shall meet at my secret police's usual meeting spot - outside of the post office on Wigmore Street, which is only a few blocks away. It's likely that one of them know something. You're more than welcome to attend, as they won't bite. Well, not  _all_ of them..."

Before Naruhodo knew otherwise, Holmes was off in-search of his 'secret police', and he was left with no other option but to follow after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put in a reference to a certain Sherlock Holmes baddie somewhere in here. See if you can find it.


	7. The Baker Street Irregulars

Holmes turned a corner, Naruhodo following behind him as closely as possible as they walked into the various alleys and side streets of the city, made up of worn-down houses, with some missing parts of their doors, which were taken to be burned for heat. Thugs stood at corners, watching over the neighborhood to protect their gang's territory, and to maintain order where police officers rarely went.

"Holmes-san, where are we going?" said Naruhodo in a whisper, disliking the glares that he was receiving from various threatening-looking individuals.

"Just keep following me, we'll meet my contacts very very shortly."

After walking through strange-smelling puddles and narrowly-dodging bathwater being tossed from an upper window of a terraced house, Holmes and Naruhodo happened upon a very run-down-looking terraced house, which appeared, at a glance, to be entirely abandoned. On a large piece of wood nailed to the door, the words " **THE IRREGULARS** " was painted on, a number of letters appearing back-to-front.

Holmes knocked on the door in a rhythmic way.

Tap-tap-tap....tap-tap-tap-tap.

A small slot opened at the top of the door, and a small pair of eyes looked out on Naruhodo and Holmes. "Come at once if convenient..." said a voice from behind the door.

"...If inconvenient, come all the same," replied Sherlock Holmes with a flick of his hat and a point.

The slot in the top of the door shut again, followed by the noises of numerous clicks and a clunk, before the door swung open. The two were greeted by a lanky, child, who appeared to be in his early teens, wearing raggedy and dirty clothes, with smudges of dirt on his face and hands.

"Mister 'Olmes!" said the child "'Oo's this you've got with ya?"

"This is Ryuunosuke Naruhodo. He is an associate of mine, Wiggins."

"Wiggins?" asked Naruhodo.

"Allow me to introduce meself. Me name's Wiggins. Billy Wiggins, but people jus' call me Wiggins if tha's fine by you, sir," he said, tilting his cap "deputy commander-in-chief of the _Baker Street Irregulars_."

"Wiggins is in-charge of my 'secret police'," explained Holmes, stepping in past Wiggins, who gave a salute worthy of a general of the British Army. Inside, young and scruffy children of school-age ran around playing, having fun and playing with one another. In a corner, some children played hopscotch, while another child watched on, playing with a doll so dirty and tatty that the dirt may have been the only thing holding it together.

"You see, nobody ever expects children to be an undercover source. If you send Gregson or someone like that around, immediately people refuse to talk to them, fearing they'll be arrested or fingered as the culprit or arrested as the culprit—"

"—So you get children to do the work for you?"

"Yes. They're not as conspicuous, and they're much faster when running."

"'E does pay us, and we all agreed to it," said Wiggins "a shilling a week, and a guinea's bonus at Christmas. So we're all well-fed if you're panicking 'bout that, Mister Narrhoodoo."

"It's  _Naruhodo_ ," corrected Naruhodo.

"Besides, we're all orphans! We wouldn't be getting money from our parents otherwise. Or we'd end up in a workhouse or an orphanage."

"I see..."

"So Mister 'Olmes, what's yer reason for visitin' today. Business or pleasure?"

"I'm on business, Wiggins. Any of you hang around the docks?"

"Yeah, few of us. But not many though. What with the stink going on at the moment, the whole area near the Thames just smells of sh—"

"—Yes, yes, we know what it's full of. But do any of you hang around Fru O'Divine's warehouse?"

"There was a man found dead there this morning, a Hosmer Angel-sama."

"I don't know any 'Osoomer Angelsamma," said Wiggins, stroking his chin in thought.

"I'm sorry, please forgive my accent and speech," apologised Naruhodo, blushing madly and bowing his head "I'm Japanese, so English isn't my first language. Did you know anyone called Mister Hosmer Angel?"

"Oh yeah, Terry heard about that. E's often 'round there, tryin' to nick a bottle of that reaper's wine or summin'. 'E just loves it. Ain't that right Terry?"

Wiggins put his arm around a shorter child, who was stumbling around clumsily, and looked as though he could be knocked over by a small breeze. Naruhodo noticed that there was a strong smell of alcohol off of him, and he was even holding a bottle awkwardly in his hand.

"You're my best mate, you French maaaannnn..." Terry slurred, attempting to bow and pouring some of the contents of his bottle on Naruhodo's boot at the same time.

"Er... thank you..." said Naruhodo, not quite sure how to react. "Anyway, do you know a mister Hosmer Angel?"

"Yyyeah... sure..." slurred Terry, who began to sing very loudly and very off-key: " _GOOOOD SAAAVE OOOOURR GRAAAAACIOOUSS QUEEEN! LOOOOOOOOONG LIIIIIVE OUUUR NOOOOOOOBLLLEE QUEEEN! GOOOOD SAAAVE THE...._ "

"How do you know Mr. Hosmer Angel?" asked Sherlock Holmes loudly, so to be heard over the drunken child's singing.

"'Eee gives me wine, so 'e does..." replied Terry with a hiccup that nearly lifted the hat from his head. "'Least 'e did, 'til 'e died. 'E... 'E 'ad eye problems or summin'. Wore these funny black glasses or whatever like he was gonna go on holiday. He did take a career break or summin' recently, and mentioned needin' to see someone abou' summin'...  _OOOOH MMMYYYY LOOOOORD GOOOOOD AAAAABOOOVE. SCAAAAAAATTTERRRR HEEEERR EEEEEEENNEEEEMIEEES. AAAAND MAAAAKE THEEEEM—_ "

Before he could sing another word, Terry fell asleep where he stood, snoring loudly. Wiggins quickly elbowed him awake again.

"Eeehwaaaaah?" yawned Terry.

"Did 'e mention 'oo 'e needed to see, Terry?"

"Sure, sure...." Terry replied, before putting the half-empty bottle to his lips and drinking numerous mouthfuls, before wiping his mouth on Naruhodo's uniform jacket. "'E said it waaaaaaaassssss........."

Holmes and Naruhodo leaned forward in anticipation.

"It waaaaaaasssssss..............James Windyblow or summin'......I dunnooo...."

"Windibank?" suggested Holmes.

"Yeah. 'Das the one..." added Terry, before collapsing on the floor on-top of Naruhodo's feet, the bottle out of his hand and spilling its dark red contents across the grotty flooring. Terry then began to snore very loudly.

"So it was James Windibank!" concluded Sherlock Holmes, "Well of-course, I knew it from the beginning, but I didn't want to ruin the surprise for Mr. Naruhodo here, of course..."

Wiggins and Naruhodo shared a knowing glance as Naruhodo awkwardly tried to knock Terry's hands off of the top of his wine-covered boot.


	8. Letting out a wine

Naruhodo paid a shilling each to Terry and Wiggins (the former being too drunk to hold it, so Naruhodo just put it in his coat pocket for him) and quickly followed Holmes out the door, which was practically hanging from from just one hinge.

"H-Holmes-san! W-Wait...up!" panted Naruhodo as he ran quickly after the detective's long strides back out of the alleyway and into the broad daylight of the street once again. "Holmes-san, what are we going to do then?"

"What are we going to  _do_? Why, what  _is_ there to do?" said Holmes.

"Well, about James Windibank! And Mary Sutherland!"

"Well that's easy, isn't it? We do the usual sort of theatrical conclusion that normally comes as part of mysteries like these."

"You mean,  _Deus Ex Machina_?" asked Naruhodo, his English literature classes finally paying off for him, it seemed.

"Gesundheit! Or whatever the Japanese equivelant of 'bless you!' is," said Holmes, flagging down a carriage and stepping into it. Naruhodo followed, remembering that if he needed to be sick to make sure not to hit anyone passing in the street.  _If Iris-chan has to cope with this every time Holmes-san has to go out to solve a mystery_ , he thought,  _then she should_ definitely _be getting more than pocket money and book royalties..._

* * *

Within ten minutes, they had returned back to the Sutherland residence, the Georgian townhouse style seemed to have gotten worse since they had last left it. On the way, Naruhodo had insisted on sending off a telegram to Detective Gregson's office on the way, just to make sure that a police detective could be on the scene as soon as possible, especially as he had no idea how on earth such a conclusion was likely to turn out. All he thought was, he didn't want to be on the receiving end of a broken glass bottle in the general direction of his or Holmes' throat.

"Now then, Mr Naruhodo!" exclaimed Holmes, before knocking on the door with the flaking paint again. Much to their surprise, it was Miss Mary Sutherland herself who answered it.

"Oh! Mr Holmes! And you..." she said. "Why, I didn't expect that I'd be seeing you again so quickly!"

"It's not you we're here to see, Miss Sutherland," Holmes informed "it's rather that we're here to see your step-father."

"M-Mr. Windibank? Well, I'm afraid he's rather pre-occupied at the moment with a buyer."

"Well, here's hoping the buyer won't mind us interrupting for something rather important. 'Scuse me," said Holmes, ducking past Miss Sutherland's hat and into the house, even though he did end up putting his foot through a rotten floorboard. At this stage, Mary Sutherland had no option but to let Naruhodo past and to follow him into the kitchen.

There, sitting opposite James and Edwina Windibank was Barok van Zieks.

"L-Lord Van Zieks!" exclaimed Sherlock Holmes and Ryuunosuke Naruhodo in tune with each-other.

"S-Sherlock Holmes," said Van Zieks before straightening himself up again, looking coldly in Naruhodo's direction saying: "...Japanese man..."

"Mary you silly girl!" exclaimed Windibank angrily "Can't you see that I'm trying to do important business here?! I don't need this right now."

"No, it's alright," Van Zieks interrupted. Even Naruhodo could tell that the " _Grim Reaper of the Old Bailey_ " could sense Miss Sutherland's mother staring darts through her right now "I'm merely buying wine, and I'm sure these two gentlemen  _clearly_ have something more important to do here..."

"Not so fast, Lord Van Zieks!" exclaimed Sherlock Holmes "We're here investigating a rather serious crime, and your input may be most valuable."

Van Zieks remained silent for a moment, before sighing and saying "Very well, I suppose I can spare some time. Although I have to get ready for an important meeting with Minister Vortex in an hour and a half, and the man is notoriously strict on time..."

Holmes continued, ignoring the stares of Mr and Mrs Windibank "Regardless, a most serious crime took place near the Fru O'Divine administrative offices last night, and we believe, Ms. Sutherland, that it is connected to the incident involving your missing boyfriend."

"Oh, Hosmer...!"she cried suddenly, eyes watering "Surely, Mr Holmes, you don't mean...?"

"I'm sorry," said Naruhodo. "But the body of Mr Hosmer Angel was discovered beside the Fru O'Divine offices down by the docks early this morning."

Miss Sutherland's eyes watered madly, before overflowing into a spray of tears and rather loud sobbing. "Oh Hosmer, Hosmer, Hosmer!" she wailed like a banshee with a toothache "Hosmer, why? Why did you have to die on meeee?"

"I'm afraid that's not the end of it," said Holmes, snapping his fingers and pointing at Windibank "We have reason to believe that it is connected to your missing boyfriend. And the two people involved  _specifically_ in what happened, are your own mother and father."

Mr and Mrs Windibank changed colours as quickly as a chameleon could, but Mrs Windibank seemed to be the angriest out of all of them. Mr Windibank was unusually quiet. "How very  _ **DARE**_ you go above our heads, Mary!" he barked "Your father and I—"

"—Step-father—" interrupted Naruhodo

"—Step-father and I told you, we  _TOLD_ you Mary, not to go digging into your own boyfriend's disappearance. And now look at you, you've only gone and upset yourself. And these two, that  _sham_ of a detective, and that Chinese, Taiwanese or whatever he is defence attorney have only gone and hurt you with the truth, and now they're accusing us? Your own family? I'm afraid I have no sympathy for you, young lady, and seeing as you've made your bed you now have to lay—!"

"Shut up!" wailed Miss Sutherland, still sobbing madly. Naruhodo was regretting not bringing an umbrella with him. "Mother, I am twenty-six, not sixteen and certainly not six!"

"Anyway," said Sherlock Holmes, silencing the arguing mother and daughter "You, Mr Windibank, are connected directly with this crime. For you see, Mr Angel had the intentions of meeting you, because the two of you are lo—"

"Don't be ridiculous, Mr Holmes! I don't know any Hosmer Angel outside of what Mary has told me, and the description that she had to put in the bloody newspaper for half of the bloody British Empire to see."

"But you did know!" Naruhodo interjected "For you see, Mr Angel's pocketbook showed that he had the intentions of meeting you very early this morning! So where were you early this morning?"

"Well, I was in bed, sleeping. Doing what any sensible man worth his salt would be doing – sleeping."

"But I believe there is a submarine engineer who is able to contradict that claim! For you see, he witnessed the victim meeting with someone, and provided a description to the police. A description, I would believe, that matches your own!"

"Well if I was meeting him, why would I want to meet him in the first place?"

"Well, that much is evident from Mr Angel's diary, where he wrote of wishing to meet with you. I think it was a few days after he last spoke to Miss Sutherland about what he detailed to be ' _the marriage issue_ '."

"Why... Hosmer seemed to be very out of character when he spoke to me about having to call off the engagement. I knew somewhere in my mind that something just seemed... wrong about him..."

"Well that's because you were not meeting the Hosmer Angel you already had come to know and love. Instead, you were meeting with Hosmer Angel himself."

"I beg your pardon, Japanese man?"

"For you see, you were not actually dating Mr Hosmer Angel as you thought you were. You were meeting someone  _disguised_ as Mr Hosmer Angel!"

"Okay, now you're really beginning to lose the plot, you stupid Nipponese or whatever you are. Are you sure that that wine I gave you earlier hasn't gone to your head?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Mr Windibank, or should I say... MR HOSMER ANGEL!"

The room remained perfectly silent as Mrs Windibank's jaw dropped open, and there came the sound of a snap the mousetrap in the hall, and a perishing squeak. Before at long last, Mr Windibank broke the silence with the popping of a cork, caught between his teeth. He spat it out, and it landed in the mug of tea that Mrs Windibank was drinking, which now had several cigarette butts floating in it.

He took several gulps of the wine inside before throwing the bottle aside and into the wall with a smash, clutching a wine glass in his hand. "V-Verr funny, you oriental! Thas a great joke, maaaaan!" be slurred, getting up and stumbling around where he stood. "BUT!" he yelled, and swung his leg up onto the table, knocking aside the mug and a salt and pepper shaker, much to the shock of Van Zieks. "Your joke is terrible, like your hairstyle, you stupid Bohemian!"

It seemed that for a wine seller, he was quite the lightweight when it came to alcohol.

"Well, Mr Windibank, did you not take several foreign holidays quite recently?"

"WORK TRIPS, YOU LOUSY DETECTIVE!"

Holmes was taken aback. "L-Lousy d-detect...tive?" Holmes then regained his composure. "Y-Yes, well, could we not simply wire a telegram to the company to see if you truly  _did_ travel abroad?"

"M-Mr Windibank...?" asked Mary Sutherland between gentle sobs. "I-Is this...true? M-Mother?" she looked at either of them, looking for answers. Mr Windibank was still off his face, and so wasn't exactly able to give anybody involved a proper answer. Mrs Windibank had the look of shame on her. "Well?"

"To tell the truth, you ssssstupid little girl," slurred Windibank "Yeah, I am Mr Hosmer Angle—"

Naruhodo corrected: "—Angel—"

"WHATEVER!" he screamed, wiping some spit from his mouth "I am him, and I enjoyed it. I LOVED IT! I'd do it again if you asked me..."

Naruhodo, for once in his life, agreed with the look of shock and horror on the face of Barok Van Zieks. It was clear he regretted staying in the room now. Miss Sutherland ran out the door, and Sir Van Zieks saw his opportunity to escape to go and console her.

"It was pretty simple. I took on the guise of ol' Hossie – guy I work with. Real fruit cake. Something up wi' his eyes, or summin' Anyway, I dated 'er dressed like him after getting the ol' wifey here, ugly and all as she is, and even more disappointing in her own other offices, lemme tell you, to introduce Mary. We're piss. Poor. Broke. I mean, look at this place. It's just terrible! It's a pile of sh—"

"James!" interrupted Mrs Windibank, clearly insulted by her husband.

"But it is! Look! Any more moulds and it'd be a bottle factory. PA-HA! HA! HA! HA!" he loudly and slowly, in an almost machine-like way. "Still though, murdering the guy I pretended to be... _NAAAAH_ , I didn't do it, you silly little oriental man!"

Those works stuck deep in Naruhodo. But before he could react, Holmes interjected: "Better a silly little oriental man than a maniacal little English man!"

"Y-Yeah!" Naruhodo chimed in. "And there's proof!"

"Proof? You ain't got no proof!" slurred Windibank again, spitting a spray of saliva as he spoke.

"But we do! You see, a number of Holmes-san's 'secret police' saw you there, as did an engineer down at the docks by your office. He saw you kill Mr Windibank after you had a conversation with him."

"And furthermore," added Sherlock Holmes, pointing an index finger to his forehead "we found your pocketbook at the scene! It proves that you were speaking to the victim about getting wine for his wife!"

"I think you mean the  _witness_ 's wife..." sighed Naruhodo.

"Oh no, I definitely did speak with him about the wine! And then I got a wrench from him after I seen where he keeps the tools! Then I used that to clobber Hosmer whaddyacallit."

Everyone stood in silence.

"Did...did he just  _admit_ to killing him?" asked Naruhodo.

"I think so..." said Holmes "Dammit! That's ruined the whole theatricality of this scene now! Will he have a massive breakdown now, I wonder?"

"'Breakdown'?"

"Yeah!" replied Holmes. "You know, the whole ' ** _NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! HWAAAAAAAAH!!!_** ' thing while they do something silly and then maybe fall over. That's usually the best part of it! Still, there's plenty of time for it yet."

"James?" asked Mrs Windibank. Her face now crestfallen. "Tell me, please, dear... you... you didn't... did you? Did... did you kill Mr Hosmer Angel?"

After a while, Windibank popped the cork of another bottle of wine before he broke the silence again. "Yeah, I did! But what are you going to do about it? It's not like you can prove it in court, or to the police!" he yelled. "You can't prove I really said it! There's no proof or anything that I did, is there? You silly, little old woman!"

"But you literally just admitted to 'clobbering him over the head'," said Naruhodo.

"And!" said a voice.

Holmes and Naruhodo turned around. Standing there in the doorway was the tall and imposing figure of Barok Van Zieks, accompanied by Tobias Gregson and two police constables. Back-up had arrived.

"We were there to hear it!" said Gregson, shaking his fish and chips angrily, sending a number of small chips flying onto the rotten floorboard "In other words, we have enough evidence, Mr Windibank, to charge you with murder!"

"It also means that enough evidence exists to take you to court on criminal charges," added Van Zieks, folding his arms. "So what have you to say now, Mr Windibank?"

At that very moment, Windibank appeared to snap out of his drunken stupor, now realising precisely what he had said while drunk, and went from being a red-faced drunk to being a white-faced little Englishman in shock quicker than a gas-lamp being extinguished. Immediately, he grabbed the bottle of wine on the table and flung it at the wall behind him, smashing it to pieces and leaving a large dark red stain on the peeling wallpaper.

In another rapid motion, he grabbed the wine glass, yelling: "Oh foolish foreign Japanese man!" before swinging his leg up into the air, and bringing it down on the table as hard as he could. The table snapped in half as cutlery, ashtrays, cigarette butts and tea cups were sent flying around the kitchen, followed quickly by the crunching of bone and a cry of pain and the wincing of everybody in the room.

Mr Windibank, it seemed, had broken his leg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I kept you guys waiting for this.


End file.
